


Walk a Mile in My Shoes

by pique



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Bodyswap, Complicated Relationships, FC Barcelona, Height Differences, Height Kink, Hurt/Comfort, Language Barrier, M/M, Minor Injuries, Pining, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 12:41:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9235667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pique/pseuds/pique
Summary: Of course, everybody becomes infatuated with Leo at one point or another. There’s a certain inevitability about it. It’s hard not to be bowled over by his sheer talent. Seeing it day in and day out doesn’t make anybody more immune to it.But Marc’s feelings run far more deeply than that.Or: the one where Marc wants to be with Leo, but he doesn't want to actuallybeLeo.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hellabaloo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellabaloo/gifts).



> For [Hellabaloo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hellabaloo/pseuds/hellabaloo). 
> 
> Kate, I was gutted to have to default on my Last Minute Sub fic. Here's my story for you, better late than never!
> 
> Thank you to [Jackdaws](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jackdaws) for the beta. 
> 
> Set circa late September 2016, leading up to and just after Barcelona's match with Atlético Madrid on the 21st.

“You know, they say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

Marc’s been making this joke about Leo’s hair for weeks now.

“Apparently, blondes have more fun.” Leo’s cheeks turn pink when he smiles, and the corners of his eyes crinkle.

Marc enjoys this game. He continues to chip away at Leo’s cagy exterior. One day, he’ll see what really lies under the surface.

He’s been at Barcelona for over two years, but it only took him a few weeks to fall for Leo.

Of course, everybody becomes infatuated with Leo at one point or another. There’s a certain inevitability about it. It’s hard not to be bowled over by his sheer talent. Seeing it day in and day out doesn’t make anybody more immune to it.

But Marc’s feelings run far more deeply than that.

“So, do they…?” Marc asks. “Have more fun?”

It’s a stupid thing to say. He knows that, just as soon as the words have fallen out of his mouth. Back at the beginning, he had the language barrier as an excuse. Now, he’s running out of reasons for getting tongue-tied around Leo.

“I can’t say I’ve noticed.” Leo frowns.

* * *

Marc’s still unwrapping his hands when he sees Leo coming out of the showers. He watches as Luis whispers something into his ear, feeling a pang of jealousy over their closeness. What is it that draws the two of them together? Luis and Leo are inseparable, and Marc doesn’t understand why.

They’re not fucking, that much is evident. Luis is besotted with Sofia, and he doesn’t so much as glance at Leo’s half naked body, even though it’s right in front of him. There’s a towel wrapped around Leo’s waist, and droplets of water drip from his bleached hair all the way down his chest. It’s deliciously teasing.

No, Luis can’t be gay.

Rafa puts his hand on Marc’s chin, closing his mouth gently for him. “You were beginning to drool.” He smirks.

“Rafa!” Marc exclaims, more out of embarrassment than annoyance.

“Marc, just _tell_ him.” Rafa stresses, but not unkindly.

“Oh, not this again,” Marc whispers.

“Why not?”

“Because of everything he’s going through.” Marc sighs.

Court cases, national team drama, and health issue after health issue; he knows 2016 has been a year Leo would rather forget.

“You’re wrong.” Rafa shakes his head. “That’s exactly why you _should_ tell him.”

* * *

Marc knows Leo is in trouble against Atlético Madrid long before he leaves the pitch. He only has to take a glimpse to see the pain in his eyes.

When he finally limps away, Marc swallows the hard lump in his throat. The world is inherently unfair, he thinks to himself, and seeing Leo being dealt another setback is crushing.

He has no right to hound such a senior teammate after the match. It isn’t his place to hang around outside the doctor’s office, waiting for news he has no business hearing.

Yet he still goes out of his way to find Leo.

“Hey.” He almost bumps into him at the door. It isn’t an accident.

“Don’t tell me you got injured too.” Leo frowns.

“I only picked up a knock.” Marc shrugs, relaxing his shoulders. “But it’s better to get it checked out, I think.”

Leo nods.

“Oh Leo?” Marc turns to him. “I’m sorry.” His voice is mellow and soft.

Leo looks up at him stoically, his face betraying nothing. “I’ll only be out for three weeks.” He bites on his bottom lip.

“I’m still sorry.”

The smallest of smiles tugs at Leo’s mouth. “I appreciate it, Marc. Thank you,” he says quietly.

Marc racks his brain. Saying sorry is lame – it isn’t enough.

“I wish I could have it for you,” he utters the comment so lowly that it’s barely audible.

“What?” Leo looks straight at him with an intensity Marc’s never seen before.

“Your pain.” Marc clarifies. “I wish I could have it for you. Or at least some of it. You’ve had more than your fair share lately.”

“No,” Leo says firmly. “I wouldn’t wish that on you.”

They face each other, and Marc thinks Leo gives him a look of disapproval. He is a very private man, and perhaps this time, Marc has delved too deeply, and pressed too much.

“I can’t give you what you want from me,” Leo states simply.

Marc finds himself unable to reply. He knows he’s being pushed away.

“I didn’t mean –” he tries to apologise.

“Please don’t say anything.” Leo interrupts. “Maybe, maybe we can be friends.”

Marc watches as Leo leaves, taking a part of his self-dignity with him. He kicks his water bottle away, watching it roll down the corridor. Nobody likes to be rejected, but this is just embarrassing. He hopes none of the other lads hear about what’s happened.

He struggles to sleep that night, as thoughts of Leo fill his senses. He can’t help but lament the fact things have turned out like this. His heart is heavy.

Yet maybe now, he’s free. He isn’t going to be trapped by his feelings any more.

Tomorrow is a new day. He’ll hold his head up high and carry on regardless, however hard it may be.

* * *

Marc is woken by a sharp pain in his groin. Instinctively, he reaches down to rub it, wondering what the hell he’s done to himself. It serves him right for his fraudulent visit to the club doctor that previous evening.

This is very bad: it’s only been a few weeks since Claudio left, and Marc needs this chance to shine in the spotlight – to cement his position as Barcelona’s number one.

It’s an angry, throbbing pain, aggravated by the slightest movement. When it intensifies, his breath suddenly catches. He reaches up and rubs his face with his hands, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

His hands find a beard. Marc has a beard. Seemingly, it’s grown overnight. Its itchy presence feels foreign on his chin.

As he slides out of bed and looks around, he freezes in horror. He’s in a room he doesn’t recognise. He looks down and traces the tattoos on his arms, and stares at his much shorter legs.

_Oh scheisse._

Surely, he must be dreaming.

He glances around in search of a mirror. Reluctantly, he hobbles towards the en suite bathroom. Terror sweeps over him – wave after wave of it. Surely, he can’t be about to see another man’s reflection staring back at him.

He can barely stop shaking as he looks up into the glass.

The face he sees belongs to Leo.

Marc isn’t a hysterical person, but he sinks onto the floor, unable to steady his breaths. How has this happened?

* * *

There’s no time to think things through. Luis arrives to take him to physio five minutes later.

Marc feels lightheaded as he walks towards the car. He may well be using legs that belong to the world’s greatest footballer, but Leo’s body has completely thrown his coordination.

“Hola, Luisito.” Marc lets out a little screech as he speaks. The voice he hears is Leo’s, but the words and the accent are his own.

As he clambers into the passenger seat of Luis’s Range Rover, he feels distinctly paranoid. He’ll have to be careful. He doesn’t want to rouse suspicion – not until he knows exactly what’s going on. This is Leo Messi’s body he’s in, and the entire world scrutinises him on a daily basis.

He doesn’t need to be going to physio; he wants to get to his apartment. He must find his body, and somehow, get back into it.

“How are you feeling?” Luis asks, breaking his line of thought.

“Sore.” Marc responds as honestly as he can.

“You’ll be back in no time,” Luis replies, concentrating on the road ahead. “And believe it or not, we won’t let the team fall apart while you’re not around.”

Marc squints, listening intently. Whenever they talk, Luis slows down his Spanish as his Uruguayan accent is so colloquial. But now he thinks he’s speaking to Leo, he barely stops for breath between each word.

He tries to grin back at him, but Leo’s teeth feel weird: they’re much smaller than his own.

Marc sinks down onto the seat. “This is comfy,” he thinks aloud. “There’s so much legroom.”

“Yeah,” Luis replies. “I guess.”

Luis has one hand on the steering wheel, and the other on his cup of mate. He makes a loud, slurping noise as he sucks on the straw. Then, he tilts it towards Leo’s lips. Marc sees them share this drink all the time. He leans over, and takes a generous mouthful. That’s what Leo would do.

The bitter, strong concoction instantly makes him gag. He tries desperately to swallow, but instead the hot liquid comes straight back up his throat. It explodes uncontrollably out of his mouth, most of it splashing onto Luis’s shirt.

“Leo, what the fuck?” Luis exclaims, throwing his hands up in annoyance.

It’s the start of what’s going to be a very long day.

* * *

 _If I’m him, then he’s got to be me_. Marc tries to think logically about it.

Or maybe not. What if his lifeless body is lying on his bed at home, waiting for him to crawl back into it? What if he _can’t_ crawl back into it? He pushes the thought away – it makes him feel sick.

Once he’s done here, he has to find Leo – or rather Leo as him. It’s all very confusing.

“Leo?” The physio has been talking for a while, but Marc hasn’t been listening. “How does that feel?” He places pressure on Leo’s hip, stretching out the groin area.

“It’s very tender.” Marc winces, screwing his face up at the discomfort. “But stretching it out helps.”

The team of doctors and physios are gathered around him, hanging on his every word. Some of them have flown in especially from Argentina, and several have worked with Leo since he was a teenager.

“This is a nasty recurrence of your groin injury.” One of them pipes up. “Leo, you’ve got to rest. You’ve had this issue for a while now, and it isn’t going to go away unless you give it the right kind of care.”

“Okay…” Marc nods. There’s an awkward pause as the medical team wait for him to elaborate. “Thank you.”

“I’ll write you a prescription of course, and we’ll give you a painkilling injection which will offer some temporary relief.” He continues, writing frantically on a paper pad. “What medications are you taking at the moment?”

Marc is dumbfounded. “Uh… nothing new,” he says dismissively.

“And how would you say your health is in general? You’re not having any more trouble with the kidney stones?”

Marc shakes his head.

“Oh Leo, you do look tired.” The doctor observes.

“You look terrible, actually.” Another one pitches in.

“So, are you going to head home, and put your feet up?” The doctor asks, peering at Leo from over the edge of his glasses.

“Not yet,” Marc responds decisively. “I’d like to watch today’s training session, actually.”

“Whatever you want,” he says amicably. “But Leo, _please_ take it easy.”

* * *

Marc is still sweating nervously, wondering how the hell he just bluffed his way through a physio session with Leo’s medical team. As he’s escorted to a seat where he can watch the session, his thoughts turn to Leo; he wonders how he’s coping.

He scours the area, then spots himself standing on the goal line. It’s the freakiest thing in the world to see his body inhabited by another soul.

“Leo!” Neymar waves at him from the pitch, and several other players turn to look his way.

Marc is relieved when he spots his own body turn in reaction. Surely this means it’s Leo who’s in there?

He waves back. Leo only has to make it through this training session, Marc thinks to himself. Lucho’s always said he could play Leo in any position on the pitch. Maybe he’ll have the instinct to behave like a goalkeeper in Marc’s body.

Ten minutes later, and he’s boiling over with jealousy. Leo’s already saved a penalty taken by Geri, and now Marc’s watching him go through his daily routine with Jasper and Jordi. Nothing is amiss.  Isn’t Leo Messi bad at anything? What’s more, he looks like he’s having the time of his life out there. Marc watches himself smiling, making jokes and doing elaborate somersaults as he saves several shots.

 _Alright Leo_ , Marc thinks to himself. _Just tone it down a little bit, you’re starting to make me look like an arschgesicht._

But Leo isn’t ready to slow down just yet. With his goalkeeping gloves cast aside, Marc watches as his own body strides across to the main group.

 _Oh god, please don’t tell me he’s going to try and play football with them_. Marc panics.

The first thing he does is nutmeg Luis. Leo actually nutmegs Luis, in Marc’s body. Then he does the same thing to Iniesta. _Iniesta_.

 _Dammit, Leo_.

Marc tries to swallow, but his throat feels dry. When he gets hold of Leo – or himself – he’s going to kill him. That’s if the others don’t do it first.

He’s never been so glad to see training end.

“I don’t know what the hell’s got into you, ter Stegen!” He hears Lucho reprimanding him as they walk back towards the tunnel. “Jesus Christ, maybe I should make you a striker!”

Marc sinks onto the bench, covering his face with his hands.

* * *

“So, what did the doctors say?” Geri throws an arm around him expectantly, and Marc is almost bowled over by his strength.

Now he’s beginning to understand why Leo doesn’t like it when people touch him without warning.

“Uh, it’s still looking like at least three weeks’ rest,” he stutters, tilting his head up. His eyes are greeted with the sight of Geri’s nose hair. He never had to look at that when he was taller.

“Geri, you might want to invest in some nose hair clippers.” Marc makes the comment without thinking.

“What?” Geri’s hands instantly go to his nose, then he erupts into laughter. “Come here, Leo.”

Geri pulls him into a hug. Marc feels as though he’s about to suffocate. He tries to peer around Geri’s tall body. He needs to find Leo... he needs to find _himself_.

“Leo!” It’s Masche.

“Hey,” Marc responds quietly.

“How are you doing? Luis said he was worried about you this morning. He said you didn’t seem like yourself.”

Marc’s eyes widen at the remark. Then he recalls their disastrous car journey. “Oh, yeah. I was just a bit tense about what was going to happen with the medics. The pain woke me up this morning.”

“Leo…” Masche gently pushes him towards a corner. “Are you sure that’s all it is?”

Marc’s never heard Masche speak so gently. They’re usually hurling insults at one another when things go wrong with the team’s defence.

“Yeah.” He smiles and pats Masche on the back, but he doesn’t give much else away. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Are you ready to head home?” Luis calls over.

“Can you just give me five minutes?” He replies, scouring the room for his own form.

He spots himself on the opposite side, deep in conversation with Rafa. Marc’s heart sinks. This can’t be good; Rafa knows too many of his secrets.

It’s the oddest thing when he makes eye contact with himself from across the room. He sees his own face smile back at him, and Rafa shoots a knowing glance in his direction before heading away.

Marc takes a deep breath. This is it: the moment of truth.

“Hallo,” he says to himself in his native tongue. “Leo, please tell me it’s you?”

“It’s me.” Leo states. “But I’m inside you. What the hell is going on?”

Marc gives Leo a wary glance. It’s so strange to see his own eyes looking back at him.

“I don’t know. We must get to the bottom of this,” Marc states.

“Now?” Leo asks in a low voice.

“I can’t – Luis is waiting for me, and he already suspects something is wrong. Can I come over to yours later?” Marc presses.

“Yes,” Leo replies. “I mean, you know where you live, right?” He manages to laugh.

“After today, I’m not sure what I know anymore.” Marc sighs.

* * *

Marc stands outside his own front door, foraging in his jeans pocket for his keys. He doesn’t have them of course; he’s not in his own body anymore.

“Hey.” Leo opens the door. “Come in.”

He hears music playing from the living room, and when he gets inside there are pizza boxes and beer bottles strewn all over the table.

“What on earth have you been doing?” Marc’s mouth opens in horror. He hates admitting it, but he’s a neat freak.

“Rafa and I had lunch.” Leo smiles. “It was fun.”

“Seriously, you’ve been having fun?” Marc is astounded. “Leo – I’m you and you’re me. What the fuck are we going to do about it?”

“Come on.” Leo leads him into the kitchen, opening the last two bottles of beer. It’s unsettling how at home he looks in Marc’s apartment, _and_ in his body.

“We must get someone to help us,” Marc says. “What about a doctor?”

“You think a doctor can help us?” Leo rolls his eyes, pausing to take a sip of beer. “This is one of those freak events – just something that’s happened. We have to accept it and move on.”

“Move on? Leo, we have a match against Sporting in two days. _In two days_.” Marc stresses the words. “You can’t be me for the match, and I certainly can’t be you when you’re medically cleared.”

“I quite like being a goalkeeper.” Leo muses. “I think I’m rather good at it. And I’m tall. Fuck, I love being tall! Do you know how much further I can see when I’m walking around? If I want something from the top shelf, I can get it without having to stand on something. It’s a fucking revelation, Marc.”

He’s never known Leo to be this vocal. Marc feels as though he’s about to pass out.

“Did you get my injury as well as my body?” Leo asks more cautiously.

“Yes, of course I did,” Marc replies.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Leo frowns sympathetically. “Apart from that, how was the rest of your day?”

“Well let’s see…” He recalls. “First of all, I woke up in your body. Then I almost threw up on Luis, who wants to kill you – I mean _me_ , by the way, for nutmegging him and Andrés in front of the others. I’ve been stretched in positions I never thought were humanly possible by your physios, most of whom have known you since you were a boy. I had a long conversation with one of your doctors about the state of your bladder. Now, I’ve come home to discover that the man who’s inhabiting my body has seamlessly integrated himself into my life, whereas I mess up every time I open my mouth. So honestly, I haven’t had the greatest day, Leo!”

Marc puts his head in his hands, exhaling loudly. He feels as though he’s about to crack up.

“It sounds like a quiet day, as far as my days go.” Leo ponders. “Wait a minute… you almost threw up on Luis?”

“He made me drink mate.” Marc shudders.

He watches as Leo laughs, using his mouth and his big teeth. “Oh god, I wish I’d seen it.”

“No, you don’t.” Marc shakes his head.

“I enjoy drinking your beer.” Leo states, licking his lips.

“German beer is the best in the world.” Marc grins. “And I was saving that for a special occasion.”

“Me being in your body isn’t a special occasion?” Leo smirks. “Besides, Rafa drank a lot of it.”

“Oh, I bet he did. Anyway… what did you talk about?” Marc asks.

“Nothing you need to know about yet.” Leo replies mysteriously.

“Have you done anything else I _do_ need to know about while you’ve been in my body?”

“Well…” Leo’s cheeks begin to turn red, and he folds his arms, as if he’s trying to hide something. “I’ve… made the most out of being you.”

“What does that mean?” Marc asks. “And do I really look that stupid when I blush?”

“You’re blushing now,” Leo says. “And I’m the one who looks stupid.”

Marc stares down at the floor. Even though Leo’s in his body, he still has the power to reduce him to a jittering wreck.

“About what you said last night…” Marc hesitantly raises the subject.

“Oh… _that._ ” Leo huffs, and Marc senses that he’s beginning to get flustered.

Marc nods. “I know you don’t want me, and it’s fine – I understand.”

He feels ridiculous having this conversation with himself.

“Of course I want you.” Leo replies.

“You have a funny way of showing it.” Marc narrows his eyes.

“I’ve had such a bad year.” Leo sighs. “Everything that could go wrong has gone wrong. It’s like I don’t even know how I’m going to get through it.”

Marc reaches up to touch his own face with Leo’s hand.

Okay, it’s weird. But he needs to do it anyway.

“I’ll help you,” Marc says gently.

“I didn’t want to put all of that onto someone else,” Leo utters. “I thought it was better for me to be alone.”

“You were wrong,” Marc whispers gently. “You’re not going to have to go through this on your own.”

“I’m not great at letting people in.” Leo confesses. “It makes me feel very uncomfortable.”

“Well, you’ve let me in – quite literally.” Marc laughs nervously. “I think we’re way beyond where we were twenty-four hours ago.”

“You gave me a break from myself. I needed it.” Leo links their hands together.

“Woah.” Marc recoils. “My hands are really dry. I need to moisturise.”

“You’re a goalkeeper.” Leo grins. “You need to learn how to look after your hands.”

“I _was_ a goalkeeper – until whatever this is – happened.” Marc points to each of their bodies in turn.

Silence lingers between them momentarily.

 “So, do you still want to try?” Leo asks, eyeing Marc hopefully. “You know, being together?”

“I’m not sure how I feel about being with you while you’re in my body,” Marc replies honestly. “It’s you I want – body, mind and soul. I’m greedy. I want the lot.”

“I’m still me.” Leo points out. “Even if I’m you.”

“Yes, yes you are.” Marc nods. “And I still want you.”

“Marc?” Leo begins. “You have a very, _very_ nice body.” He smirks knowingly.

“Oh… oh god.” Marc blushes.

* * *

“Don’t go.” Leo pleads with him.

It’s pitch black outside, and Marc is exhausted after such an eventful day.

“Stay with me,” Leo whispers dreamily. “We don’t have to do anything. I just want to lie with you. Please Marc, don’t leave me.”

“I’ll fetch a blanket.” He smiles.

He curls up tightly against his own body, feeling his goalkeeper’s arms wrap around his waist. He can even smell his own skin. It’s bizarre, but it makes him feel closer to Leo.

“My feet are cold.” Leo complains. “They’re sticking out at the end of the blanket.”

“See?” Marc replies. “Being tall does have its disadvantages.”

“Hmm.” Leo moans, closing his eyes.

* * *

Marc wakes with the sun streaming in through his living room window, and his body free of pain. He looks down to see the small Argentine striker fast asleep in his arms.

It’s an indescribable feeling; as though he’s lost something. Marc physically yearns for the smaller body. He remembers the warm contentment as he fell asleep, and how he still loved Leo, even when he wore Marc’s face.

They understand each other in ways that no one else can. But he’s glad things are back to normal.

“Leo.” He murmurs. “You’re you.”

Leo begins to stir. “And you’re you.”

He groans in pain.

“I’m so sorry, maus.” Marc strokes Leo’s hair with his long fingers. “I hate that you’re hurting.”

“I think I’ll live.” Leo looks up at him, rubbing his chest with the palms of his hands. “Why do you think we switched back?”

“Because everything is as it’s meant to be.” Marc muses.

They both smile at each other, and Marc cups Leo’s face in his hand, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

 


End file.
